“Radical Caring”

Ruth 2

A Sermon Preached by the Rev. Douglas M. Donley

November 9, 2003

University Baptist Church

Minneapolis, MN

 

            I want to thank Megan and the other teachers that tend our children.  Last Sunday, The children acted out the story of Ruth and Naomi during Sunday school.  On Monday night, while Kim was tucking in Rebecca, Rebecca looked at her and said, “Mommy, wherever you go, I will go; wherever you die, I will die.  But I’ll die before you, but I won’t ever forget you because I love you.”  Thanks for giving us Naomis a great gift.

            As we open the next chapter of the book of Ruth, the two women are in Bethlehem.  With no other means of support and no prospects, these two widows did what all widows did.  They played by the rules of the Jewish welfare state.  Since Naomi was still in her bitter place and could not really do much of anything, Ruth went out to get them some food. 

            Here’s how the welfare system worked back then:

Aliens, widows and orphans could follow the harvesters, scavenging for food.  It was all legal and even expected.  One thinks of people pushing shopping carts these days through city streets filled with cans and bottles, at least streets in states that have can and bottle deposit programs.  According to Jewish law, the corners of the field are to be left to aliens, widows and orphans—people who have no other means of support. In good stewardship, it was the responsibility of those with wealth to give a portion to those without wealth.  This is akin to the practice of tithing one’s income to God’s work. 

Deuteronomy 24:19-22 says, “When you reap your harvest in your field and forget a sheaf in the field, you shall not go back to get it; it shall be left for the alien, the orphan, and the widow…when you gather the grapes of your vineyard, do not glean what is left; it shall be for the alien, the orphan and the widow.”  Ruth was both an alien, meaning a foreigner, and a widow.  For all we know she could have been an orphan too, giving her the triumvirate of shame and poverty.  Luckily, she now lived in a land with a sense of responsibility for the poor, at least on paper.  I’m sure people started blaming the poor for their plight, just as they do now.  I bet there were religious leaders who even said that giving to the poor in such a way was a violation of the laws against consorting with outcasts.  It has happened for years and it will happen again.  All it takes is for compassionate people to say nothing.  It’s so easy to forget the Biblical mandate of compassion. 

Now, this wasn’t pretty work.  Ruth would have to face the racist remarks of the other Hebrew gatherers.  She would have to watch herself for she was a prime target for a horny harvester.  She could get her belongings stolen, as happens to many street people.  It reminds me of the two young men who came by the office on Monday.  They were trying to get back home to Seattle and were spending the nights in the train yard just below Dinkytown hoping to hop a freight train.  They told me the familiar story about having their belongings stolen while they were in New Orleans.  We offered them coffee and a warm place before sending them off to another service agency that could better help them. 

Ruth figured that maybe at the end of the day, she would have just enough for herself and Naomi, if she was lucky.  This was to be her plight from now on.  This was the price of her loyalty to Naomi.  Ruth was certainly a remarkable person.  Naomi must have been remarkable as well to engender such devotion.

            As she elbowed her way into the field corners with the other widows and orphans, she met the fancy of one of the field owners by the name of Boaz.  Maybe he was struck by her beauty or her chutzpah.  Maybe it was because of her reputation.  It didn’t take long for the gossip to reach Boaz, that she was the one who came back from Moab with Naomi.  But not only that, it turns out that he and Elimelech were related, which made Ruth and Naomi kin to Boaz.  From then on, Boaz showed Ruth special interest.  He told her to only glean in his fields.  He told his field hands to help her out with her harvest—taking stuff out of their bags and not being so dang careful in their harvesting.  He let Ruth eat with him.  All of these things were extravagant.  But the most radical thing he did was to instruct his field hands not to “bother” her.  This seems innocent enough.  But a woman who has lived through abuse will see right through this.  “I have told my good old boys not to molest you.”

            Boaz and Ruth both show radical acts of caring in this book.  Even the Hebrew welfare system comes off looking good, at least in its provisions of helping the poor.  Jesus’ life was typified by the radical acts of caring that he performed.  I say radical because it is more than normal caring.  It’s radical caring because it upsets people.  It can even put you in danger and yet it’s always incredible good news to the recipient.  Jesus befriended and embraced all those who were deemed as outcasts by the social and religious piety of his day.  Then they were lepers, women, demoniacs, prostitutes, the lame and the blind.  Today, he might embrace the poor, the Arab whether Muslim or not, the people with HIV & AIDS, the GLBT communities, those in nursing homes, those denied health care, the victims of war and violence, and the list goes on.  Just think, if we could recapture that kind of inspiration of radical caring, think about what this world would look like.

            I think that’s one of the messages of Ruth.  It is certainly one of the main messages of Jesus’ ministry.  We are closest to God when we embrace radical caring.  That’s what grace is all about.  It is God’s radical caring about us.  If our response to this grace is radical caring for others, then I believe we are making God, Jesus, Ruth, Naomi and Boaz all smile.

            I asked those of you who receive my weekly e-mail to tell me of examples of radical caring.  Here are some of the examples you shared with me:

            Betty Shaw came up with an example of a person who went to minister to skinheads because he took seriously the challenge that caring is not radical unless you minister to those you hate the most.  This seems to take seriously Jesus’ admonition that we are to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.  That’s radical caring.

So often, I find myself wanting and needing to confront people within our own denomination who have taken a stance against the GLBT communities.  Sometimes it drives me nuts.  But then I remember Jesus’ words that we are to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.  I remember Coretta Scott King’s admonition to Mel White when he said he was sick of confronting homophobes in the church.  She said, “the worst form of violence anyone can commit is the violence of giving up on our enemies.”  What we need to do is radically care for those who continue to persecute.

I think about my friends Jim and Connie Larue who lost their daughter and my friend Molly to the hands of a deranged murderer as she and her boyfriend slept in a lean-to on the Appalachian Trail.  At the trial of her murderer, they fought against the imposition of the death penalty.  They have been working hard against the death penalty ever since.  That’s another example of radical caring.

Then there is Corrie Tenboom who went to a Nazi prison camp for hiding Jews.  Talk about courage and love.  Some time later she found it in her heart to forgive the prison guard who was responsible for her own sister’s death.  That’s radical caring.

There is Tomas Borge the founder of the Sandinistas who at the time of the Revolution in 1979, found his former torturer on the other side of the bars.  He looked him in the eyes and with the power of the state at his side he executed the best justice he knew of.  He opened the bars to the prison so he could see him face to face and said:  “Because of all that you have done to me and to so many of my compatriots, I hereby set you free.  I choose not to be like you and furthermore I sentence you to forgiveness.”  That’s radical caring.

These may all seem like outlandish things done by extraordinary people.  But I believe that you are extraordinary people, too.  I believe and I know you are capable of radical caring.

Here in this space, we practiced radical caring as a church.  When the strike was on at the U, we served as sanctuary to striking workers, their families, friends and supporters.  It was electric how many people came through this facility, full of gratitude for our hospitality.  And then when the tearful announcement was made on Tuesday that the strike was over and that the Union and the U had reached a tentative agreement, we were all aware that something magical had happened here at UBC.  I wish you could have been there to hear hundreds of Union supporters cheering for the radical hospitality of UBC.  We had given them a home when the felt homeless.  We gave them respite and warmth and space for healing to happen.  But more than that, we also got a glimpse of what it means to be in this space, on this corner, in this time.  It’s all about radical caring.  Just yesterday, we received some thank you letters in the mail.  They both say, “To the staff and members of University Baptist Church:  Thanks so much for providing a comfortable meeting place during the strike.  Regardless of our political views, we greatly appreciate your generosity.”  The letters are signed by the members of Eric Daigre’s English 1014 and 3090 classes.

In reflecting on the events of the past month, I think we have caught a glimpse of what it might mean for us to believe and practice a sense that this space that we occupy is not really our space.  It is God’s space for the community and we are simply its stewards.  The word sanctuary has in its roots the phrase, “To make a place for.”  That is what we did. 

            Kim put it well to me this week.  She said, “it’s not our church, but a physical representation of our beliefs that we share what we have with those in need.”

            Our beliefs include that we are followers of one who practiced radical caring.  And when we are at our best, we try to practice that kind of radical caring, too.

            That’s why we give so much of our space to other groups, like Second Foundation School, like the Galilean Center, like the University Episcopal Church, like the parish of Holy Trinity and St. Anskar, like Refuge Community Church. 

            It’s why we open our church up for Families Moving Forward.

            It’s why we serve Meals on Wheels and Loaves and Fishes.

            It’s why we provide scholarships to poor students in Nicaragua through our sister church.

            It’s why we give over 20% of our resources to missions outside of this church.

            It’s why we are active in the Joint Religious Legislative Coalition.

            It’s why we are active in the GLBT liberation movement.

            It’s all because our lives are meant for radical caring. 

            It’s what Jesus lived for.

            It’s what Ruth and Boaz demonstrated.

            It’s what brings hope to a world and a people in need.

            I know we have all seen radical carers.  I also know that you have been radical carers.  I challenge you to find a way to be even more radical in the days and weeks to come.  Not because you want to get something in return, but because you can become someone new through it all.

            Let me close by giving you one final example.  About 15 years ago, the preacher at the First Baptist Church of Greater Cleveland challenged the church to do something to show radical caring.  He may not have used those words, but the concept hit a chord with my mother.

            I have told you how much she loves to garden.  She began to conspire with a few other people in the church and the concept of a hunger garden was born.  For the past 15 years, she has met from April thru October weather permitting on Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings with a half dozen or so volunteers.  In a dug up a 3000 square-foot piece of lawn on the church property, they plant and harvest collard greens, Swiss chard, beets, carrots, beans, broccoli, cauliflower, eggplant, green peppers, cucumbers and 125 tomato plants.  All of the produce goes to the hunger center in Cleveland, literally tons of it each year.  If I can be a just a bit of the radical carer that she is, I will be lucky indeed. 

            Like many of us, she has spent her time as bitter Mara.  But being in the garden, being Ruth for someone else always makes her seem much more like a pleasant Naomi.    She says, when she’s in the garden, working the soil and thinking about those she helps, she feels closest to God.

            May we be the givers of radical caring.

            And when we are on the receiving end, let us make sure that we say thanks.

            Sisters and brothers, may we all find ways to continue the work of radical caring which is as old as the Bible and yet as new as the sun on the horizon of hope.  And through our own experiments with radical caring, may we continue the journey from bitterness to hope.  That’s what we are all about.